A constant...

Writing, for me, is fun - messed up, but blessed. Thinking to one's self is fun, messed up, but blessed.

I was gonna title this "Let it be", didn't - but more on that later.

Life is so very different. It's different a continent away... Across the Continental borders... Across these United States.. Different a County away.. Different down the street.. even different next door. Even the apartment above you.

Folks live on the street.. in tents.. shacks put together with pallets.. studio apartments.. rental houses.. small, family homes.. large estates...

On our feet, some wear nothing.. some, made from birch bark.. sandals.. loafers.. cowboy boots, huge - furry boots..

We make no bucks, some bucks, a lotta bucks.. dollars, yen, pounds, rands, Euros, Francs, yada.

We are small, large, medium, light skinned, medium skinned, dark skinned, hairy, not hairy, blonde, brunette, ginger, tall, short, abled, disabled, loud, quiet, yada.

Our lives are spent diversely. Some, hunting prey to subsist, most - running to make ends to meet.. some, with silver spoon in hand.

Victor, what on earth could that constant be?

Mom(s).

Moms come in all sizes, varieties. Most, birth the child, many, do not. Some moms are grannies, some are even aunts. My own father - his mom died when he was 6. He turned out ok, because he was raised by many, and certainly by one specific aunt.

I have friends who have adopted children and are wonderful mothers.. I have friends who are raising their grandchildren, and are truly devoted 'moms'. I have friends who are adopted, who adore their 'moms.'

Thank you Lord for this.

"All that I am, or hope to be I owe to my angel mother." Abraham Lincoln.

Impossible for us men to put ourselves in those bare feet, birch bark shoes, sandals, loafers, cowgirl boots, furry big things. However, we know all very well about moms.

What better than observing a mom looking at their child while the child can't see her - the smile, the proudness, the sentinel.

I am aware, not 100% of the people have a superb, perfect, mother-child relationship. That said, I can't help but think a good life lived goes without having been touched by one, some, many females along the way.

Moms spank, and don't spank. Moms are quiet. Unassuming. Lead by example. Demonstrative. Loud. Different, but same. Some put the fear of God in one, some put God in one - most are Godly - some, even all three.

"I was lucky" say many of us. Much sticks with me regarding my mother - but some real huge things standout. She allowed me to think on my own two feet - even knowing that may get me knocked down. She never told me "treat people how you'd like to be treated", she lived it, demonstrated it. Daily, even to a stranger passing the other way at the convenience store, we hear "how ya doing?" My mother always asked "How's my Victor?" And she meant it.

You're stuck, it's my blog - a couple more diddies on my mother then I'll move on. The things one keeps. I will never forget being at a Major League game, a 100 mph foul ball hit our way.. the inclination is to duck, throw your arms up to protect one's own head, get the heck out of the way.. not mom.. she shielded ME. That was my mom, your mom, moms. I remember coughing spells - and how she would not take a breath until I took mine.

"God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers." Rudyard Kimpling.

Let it be. Paul McCartney wrote these lyrics at the twilight of the Beatles. He claims he was alone, had been drinking, probably depressed. His mother (named Mary) passed when he was 14. She came to him in a dream. He heard the words "Let it be," as in words of comfort, reminding him not to think about sad things too much, to accept bad things that happened that can't be changed.. "Although they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see. There will be an answer - let it be."

Even mom's gone, are always there. The moves we make, the thoughts we take. We talk internally, and we bounce ideas off mom, both living and posthumously.

"A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them." Victor Hugo.

Going back to McCartney's "Let it be," it's many things. A retort to our beating ourselves up. An answer to "what should I do?".. A simple calmness to a storm.

I'll go now. Turning on the TV, reading the newspaper, hearing the old guys that gather daily around the table at the local diner - reminds us, our world seems to be a pretty gosh darn messed up place at present.

Imagine how much worse off we'd be without moms...

No matter your age, you always need your mom. If you are one, please take a deserved pat on your own back.

Love, Victurd